


Wash Away

by sapphire_child



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Castiel, Cas tags along, Destiel - Freeform, Dorkiness, Episode: s10e18 Book of the Damned, F/M, Gen, Hugs, M/M, Sam Ships It, Subtext, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, at least a little bit, beach holiday, but doesn't really get the whole idea of a holiday at first, general adorableness, they finally get their beach holiday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 00:06:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5686876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire_child/pseuds/sapphire_child
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean finally get to take their beach holiday, and of course they bring Cas along to share in the experience. It doesn't take long for them to realize that Castiel hasn't taken to the concept of a "holiday" all that well, spending his time hunkered in the shade and politely declining each activity the boys suggest. With a bit of gentle coaxing, they might be able to loosen him up enough to finally have some proper fun, but it's going to take some creative thinking on their behalf. How exactly do you entertain an eons old celestial being at the beach?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wash Away

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the beautiful "Wash Away" by Joe Purdy which I listened to on repeat whilst writing this. As soon as Dean mentioned it, all I've wanted for these boys is for them to get their beach holiday, and for there to be a dorky, adorable montage of them all doing beach stuff with this song playing in the background.
> 
> _I got troubles oh, but not today  
>  'Cause they're gonna wash away  
> They're gonna wash away_
> 
> _And I got sins Lord, but not today  
>  'Cause they're gonna wash away  
> They're gonna wash away_
> 
> _And I got troubles oh, but not today  
>  'Cause they're gonna wash away  
> This old heart gonna take them away_

It takes them a long time but they finally make it to the beach. The brothers acclimatize to holiday conditions easily enough all things considered. Sam reads a lot, but he also throws Frisbees at Dean when he’s dozing and frequently gets tackled for his troubles. His winning smile and love of dogs sees him getting friendly with one of the locals who comes past every morning with her Labrador. His muscled frame and impressive, golden bronze tan probably help too. He promises to join her for a run one morning. She smiles slyly and tells him he should join her for breakfast afterwards.

Dean spends a lot of hours just sitting. Just being. He watches girls swish past, appreciating their teeny weeny bikinis and their carefree smiles. He finds a game of beach volleyball which is short on players and when he starts feeling antsy he goes and fights against the waves, pushing his body through the rushing water until he’s tired and content and happy. His freckles have bloomed, constellations of melanin, his skin having soaked up the sun like a greedy sponge. In contrast, his hair is beginning to lighten, the blondest it’s been since his childhood. His eyes seem brighter too, greener against his tan.

Cas it turns out, is not so great at holidaying. For one, he has conceded to lose his coat and suit jacket, but not the slacks or shirt. The tie is forcibly taken from him on the first day and hidden. He gripes about it enough that the brothers Winchester can’t help but laugh. They are relaxed, are playing and swimming and drinking and barbequing. They offer to buy Cas ice cream, invite him to join in on their activities and he just smiles thinly and shakes his head every time.

“I’m fine,” he promises. But with each day he gets quieter and quieter – and less content.

“Why’re you so damn uptight man?” Dean finally demands after several days have passed and Cas is still spending his time huddled grumpily under their makeshift beach shelter looking flushed and uncomfortable. At first, it doesn’t seem like he’s going to answer, but then he sighs.

“It’s hot,” Cas grumbles. “And there’s so much sand…”

“Seriously?” Dean offers him a significant look and Cas grumbles under his breath and tries to brush the grains out from between his wriggling toes. “You’ve messed around in some of the hottest deserts on the planet looking for obscure religious relics, now you can’t deal with beach sand?”

Cas continues to sulk. It should be ridiculous, the guy is eons old and here he is behaving like a miserable little kid denied his favorite flavor of cookie. Instead it’s almost endearing, the way he squints furiously at the sun like it’s done him a personal wrong and diligently removes each granule of sand from his sweaty ankles. Dean shakes his head and looks out towards the waves, lazily applying another coat of lotion to his shoulders. He could leave Cas here for the third day in a row, go swim some laps and check out the latest crop of bikini-clad wonders.

Instead, he starts plotting how to get him out of the shelter and having some fun. When he stands, brushing the sand from his cheap swim trunks Cas barely even moves. But when he offers a hand, the squinting shifts into full force. Cas is obviously suspicious, but allows himself to be pulled to his feet regardless.

“So you don’t want to swim,” Dean says conversationally, twisting his hand to catch Cas’ wrist instead of his hand. He begins to tug him down towards the water. “You don’t want to play Frisbee or volleyball or check out chicks with me. You don’t want to drink, you don’t want to read…”

“Dean,” Cas begins, warily.

“C’mere,” Dean responds, tugging him across the threshold from dry to wet sand. Cas hesitates at first but then cautiously follows. His sleeves are already rolled up but Dean ducks to his knees and rolls his slacks up a few times as well before giving him a gentle push in the small of his back. Cas stands awkwardly, flinching when the first wave washes over his feet. Dean moves to stand beside him, his arms swinging a little by his side.

They stay that way for a time, the waves washing over their feet and together they end up buried several inches deep.

Eventually Cas turns to Dean.

“What are we doing?”

Dean gestures at their feet. “Sinking. The waves wash the sand out and your feet get buried.”

Cas looks puzzled. “Why?”

Dean shakes his head and laughs a little.

“No reason man. It’s just something people do.”

“People,” Cas repeats thoughtfully.

They stand there a while longer in pensive silence. When next Dean looks at Cas he is squinting out at the horizon and his shoulders have relaxed somewhat. He flinches a little at the elbow which Dean digs into his ribs.

“Try to loosen up a bit man,” Dean advises him. “This is meant to be a holiday right? Maybe try and relax a bit for once.”

He pats Cas on the shoulder and leaves him there, puzzling to himself and watching as the sun begins its slow dip towards the horizon.

 

That night Cas takes the beer offered to him by Sam and the three of them sit in companionable silence on the tiny deck of the crappy little bungalow they’ve rented for the week.

“Thank you for today,” Cas offers quietly. He is halfway through his bottle, Dean and Sam onto their fourth and third respectively by this time. Sam arches an eyebrow at his brother and Dean shrugs but pats Cas on the knee anyway.

“No problem man.”

 

Cas does a lot better the next day. He’s still refusing to change from his usual threads into something more appropriate, but he does accept an ice cream. When a small child’s ball lands nearby he throws it back, offering a smile so gentle that the kid turns shy and scampers off. He also spends a bit of time letting his feet sink, this time of his own volition. Sam observes all of these developments from over the top of his book, occasionally glancing sideways at Dean who offers a shrug but no explanation.

After lunch Sam clears his throat and announces he’s going to hunt for shells. He asks Cas if he wants to come along and help. Cas looks a touch startled at the invitation but if his rumbling commentary about fossils and deep sea creatures is anything to go by, he’s pleased to have been asked.

Dean dozes, drunk on sun and when he wakes up he has been buried in sand. He panics initially, at the pressure on his chest, before he realizes that he can hear giggling. Sam, the asshole, has somehow convinced Cas to help him turn Dean into a sand mermaid – shell bra and all. The two of them are crowded over him, Sam gleefully snapping photographs with his phone, Cas looking almost giddy. Dean is wild.

“You…dicks!” he scrambles to extricate himself from the sand but Sam has already used his freakishly long legs to escape down the beach. Cas is slightly slower to react and Dean is quick to point a finger in warning before he charges. Cas freezes momentarily, his eyes popping even as his mouth curves into a smile. His immediate response is to turn tail and bolt but he quickly realizes that he’s trapped between his assailant and the sea. He panics, turning to ascertain how far away Dean is.

“Dean…” he manages before getting the breath knocked out of him, Dean having launched himself into Cas’ mid-section at full pelt. There’s a suspended moment where they’re midair, and then they crash into the surf, a huge swell dumping over them. Dean comes up laughing, shaking the water out of his face. Cas mainly looks stunned. He’s completely drenched, his clothes clinging to him and his mouth hanging open like a fish on a line. His dark hair is on end and full of sand and Dean laughs even harder.

He’s so distracted that he nearly gets knocked over by the next wave as it breaks. Eventually he manages to get back onto his feet and offer a hand, but it takes Cas a few goes to get a good grip, he’s being buffeted about so much. Dean feels a momentary flash of concern that Cas isn’t coping with the surf. Next minute he’s face first in the sand with water in his nose.

This time he is the one to come up spluttering, snorting sand out of every orifice. Cas, the asshole, is grinning from ear to ear and Dean realizes that he’s been had.

“You tricked me!” Dean yells, but he’s having a hard time not smiling. “Son of a bitch, you pulled me down!”

And then Cas giggles – honest to god giggles – and Dean can’t help but laugh too, even though he’s still coughing out wet sand. They help each other up, stumbling in the surf and shaking the water out of their ears like a couple of mutts. Sam watches from a safe distance back on the beach, grinning like a lunatic as well.

 

They head back early so they can shower and hang Cas’ clothes up to dry. Dean calls first dibs on the shower, and emerges to discover that Cas has headed back to the beach alone. As Sam takes over the tiny bathroom Dean slips his dollar store flip flops on and heads back out.

Cas is letting his feet sink into the surf, staring out at the sunset like it holds all the secrets of the universe. Dean kicks off his shoes and joins him silently. The sun is almost gone, painting the sky in hues of deep purple and gold. It matches the horribly garish swim trunks Cas had protested against the brothers buying – not because he didn’t like them, but because he hadn’t seen the point of them when he wasn’t planning on going swimming. In lieu of his tragically water logged dress shirt, Dean had given him one of his own faded t-shirts and a hoodie to change into. The whole outfit makes him look somehow softer around the edges. More human.

“It’s beautiful,” Cas murmurs, nodding towards the sunset. He’s so quiet that Dean almost doesn’t hear him.

“Not bad,” he agrees.

They watch awhile as the sun sinks lower and lower. Dean glances sideways to see that Cas has finally picked up a bit of color from the sun. His hair is drying in salty tufts, shaped by the wind and his eyes are an impossibly dark blue in the dimming light, like ink. He looks scruffy, windswept, like he used to in the early days. But content too. Relaxed in a way Dean rarely sees. A wave of nostalgic affection rolls over him and he slings an arm around Cas’ shoulders. The angel doesn’t even flinch, barely even seems to notice. Instead, he gives out a soft puff of contented air and mirrors the gesture easily.

They stay there like that, arms loose around each other’s shoulders until the sun disappears and the temperature begins to drop.

“Home?” Dean suggests.

Cas’ eyes are fathomless, like the sea. Like the universe spreading out above them.

“Please,” he rumbles.

They uproot themselves from the surf and walk back together. Their feet are still sandy, gritty against their flip flops and they pause to wash them at an outdoor shower along the way. The dull light of their bungalow is welcoming, warm, but before they can enter Cas stops Dean with a firm press of fingertips against his wrist.

The look of solemnness on Cas’ face is slightly worrying, so Dean tries to keep things light with a conversational, “What’s up?”

Cas’ face flickers through several emotions before settling into something more peaceful. “I just wanted to say thank you,” he says, eyes soft with sincerity. “For helping me these last few days. I think I’m beginning to understand why people enjoy going to the beach.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth twitches with a small smile. “Yeah. Me too.” He considers the bungalow, the stars, the gentle sound of insects chirping away and sighs. “Kinda wish we’d done this a long time ago.”

Cas nods and then, unexpectedly, holds his arms out. It’s a clear signal, but Dean is still surprised enough that it takes Cas stepping forward into his space for him to realize that yeah, there’s going to be a hug exchange here.

For once, it’s a proper one. Not an all too brief, manly-pat-on-the-back greeting or an I-can’t-believe-you’re-alive embrace. Cas’ chin juts against Dean’s collarbone, one arm strong and tight against his ribs, the other looped over his shoulder. Dean dares to lean in a little closer and is struck by the familiar scent of the hoodie – his hoodie – mixed with the salt and sweat of Cas. Embarrassed, he ducks his head, but Cas takes this as a sign to just hold on even tighter.

Dean would never admit it, but he’s touch starved and knows it. He forces himself to relax into the hug, and when Cas gives a final squeeze before letting go Dean lets his eyes fall shut, memorizing the sensation. It’s only as they step apart that the door swings open and Sam’s amused voice rings out.

“Should I just leave your food out here?”

Dean clears his throat. “We’re good Sam,” he glares, having to press past his brother just to get through the front door.

“Sure you two don’t want to be alone?” Sam ribs cheekily as he follows. Inside he has amassed a selection of Thai food from a little place down the road and Dean wastes no time tucking into it. Cas trails inside a little slower, ridiculous in his mismatched clothes, and collects three beers from the tiny fridge. He hands them out and Sam, obviously touched by the gesture, shuts up.

The three of them sit in companionable silence, warm and content and happy. They’re safe, there’s no hunt for them to go running back to and they’ve still got a few more days before they have to head home. There’s food in their bellies, beer in their hands, and smiles on their faces.

And if Sam notices a certain amount of softness to the looks exchanged between his brother and Cas…well he’s happy not bringing it up for now.


End file.
